Breaking the Ice
by floppyearsthebunny
Summary: It is the first year of his reign,and it is the first time, someone outside of his family, has spoken to him without guarded words,malice or accusatory glances. A kind word is spoken by the most unlikely person, and a lesson in true kingship is learned.


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**Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or Edmund. I am no relation to C.S. Lewis and I am not part of the C.S. Lewis estate. Dalia is my Creation.**

**Thank you all my friends who helped me with this piece. Firstly, my Beta Electrum, and secondly all my fabulous friends at Thelionscall. And to anyone else who may have helped that I do not remember. Thank you.  
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Your Majesty?" a small, childish voice called from the doorway.

Without turning from his work, Edmund answered solemnly, "Come in." Intent on his the treaty before him, he mumbled, "...there will- no, shall- shall be no, uh... restriction? Or maybe not... perhaps hindrance."

The sound of shattering glass jarred him out of his thoughts. He jumped, spilling ink over the parchment.

Turning around he saw a young girl, perhaps only a year younger than Lucy, softly crying. She was kneeling on the carpeted floor and attempting to gather together the ruined contents of her tray. Her dark hair was tied back with a bit of cloth and her apron signified she was a maid from the scullery.

Feeling his eyes upon her, she began to profusely apologize. "Y-y-your Majesty, I-I am so s-sorry. I didn't mean t-to, I mean it was m-my fault. I-"

Looking beyond her, he saw what she had tripped on: a piece of uneven stone in the floor close to the entrance. It was the same one that he had himself always tripped on until he learned to step over it. He had meant to have it fixed, but he had simply been too busy and distracted.

Quietly the younger king left his desk and knelt down, picking up some of the larger and more dangerous fragments of glass and pottery. _At least the ambassador doesn't arrive for two days yet. This would be a nice distraction and I can always finish it later._ As they worked picking up broken glass and pottery, Edmund recalled a time before when a similar event had taken place.

_Pretending to be a scary monster, he had chased Lucy through the hallways of the Professor's house. She had run away from him shrieking in fright and had tripped over a table leg, causing several plates and a cup to fall to the floor.__ With a sting of regret, the Just recalled he had been a coward back then, and had instantly turned to rebuking her about disobeying the rules. To make matters worse, he had lied about it to Mrs. Macreedy when he had been asked._

_For her punishment, Lucy had been made to clean it up by all by herself. But Peter, his heroic brother, had been unwilling for her to suffer alone. He had helped her and in the process cut himself on the porcelain shards. Peter, dear brother, had always been ready to put himself out for those he loved, even to the point of injury to himself._

His brother had helped Lucy, even as Edmund was helping this young servant girl. A stinging sensation in the palm of his palm brought him out of his reverie. Looking down at his hand, the younger king saw a stream of blood trickling down the piece of glass in his hand. _Oh bother, how could I have so stupid?!! A king who can't even handle glass without cutting himself? What would __General __Oreius say?_

Soon they finished and as he set the tray aside. "That's a big tray for such a little girl," he said, his voice cracking with the sounds of a boy on the verge of manhood. _Well done, Ed. You just probably offended her,_ he thought. But to his surprise she did not cry, nor did she giggle as Lucy did at his squeaky voice.

Tenderly she said, "Your Majesty, your hand. It's bleeding. Please let me see it."

"Tis only a small cut, m'lady," he replied, allowing the young girl to take his calloused hand in her small ones and examine it. Pulling a clean handkerchief out her apron, she gently wiped the blood away with a corner. Folding it, she carefully wrapped around her king's hand and tied it.

"Thank you for your ministrations m'lady. . .?"

"Dalia, sire."

"Dalia, you have been most kind. My hand, in truth, already feels better." As the maid reached for the tray, Edmund smiled and winked at the girl. "Don't worry about this, it'll find its own way to the scullery."

The servant girl returned the smile, shyly. "You're...you're very kind, Sire. Thank you." She dipped a curtsy and walked a few paces ahead...then turned, gave him a very thoughtful look and said simply and clearly, "You're a king worth serving."

Without another word, Dalia skipped down the hall and disappeared 'round the corner, leaving Edmund standing in the doorway with a beating heart. The little scullery girl's words echoed over and over in his head: _You're a king worth serving.._.

He exhaled quietly, closed his eyes, and smiled. Turning back to the treaty with new energy he whispered a silent prayer. _Thank you, Aslan, for your mercies that never cease_.

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